The clever men of Oxford, know all that there is to be knowed but they none of them know one half as much as intelligent Mr. Toad.
Time is the only luxury. It's the only thing you can't get back. If you lose your luggage - I'm not gonna say the obvious brand of luggage that I'd normally say because I've got a meeting with them soon - if you lose your expensive luggage at the airport, you can get that back. You can't get the time back.
I wanted to be a war reporter - scrabbling around, exposing things. I didn't want to go to university, I wanted to get a job, but Auntie Beryl said I should go to Oxford.
I went to boarding school and then I went to Oxford, and I know how easy it is for certain groups of people to become wholly insulated from ordinary life.
Well, start waving and yelling, because it is the so-called Oxford comma and it is a lot more dangerous than its exclusive, ivory-tower moniker might suggest. There are people who embrace the Oxford comma and people who don't, and I'll just say this: never get between these people when drink has been taken. Oh, the Oxford comma. Here, in case you don't know what it is yet, is the perennial example, as espoused by Harold Ross: "The flag is red, white, and blue. " So what do you think of it? Are you for or against it? Do you hover in between?
I went to Oxford University - but I've never let that hold me back.
A dining club which I was involved in at Oxford University invited Sir Isaiah Berlin to dinner, who I believe was probably the greatest liberal philosopher in the 20th century. I sat beside him and we spoke about liberal philosophy and the events of the 20th century all night over dinner - it was unforgettable!
Clothing should be like food. There should never be a $5000 sweater. You know what should cost $5000? A car.
I met my wife, Jennifer, while sitting next to her on the airplane on the way to England. I was heading to Oxford as a Marshall scholar.
So, then, Oxford Street, stonyhearted stepmother, thou that listenest to the sighs of orphans, and drinkest the tears of children, at length I was dismissed from thee.
I sometimes think if I had gone to Oxford or Cambridge and looked like a handsome young guy who could be in an Evelyn Waugh novel or something, I'd be a massive movie star. But there's a longevity to what I do. It's more reliable. Someone isn't deciding that I'm the next big thing.
There are no sick people in North Oxford. They are either dead or alive. It's sometimes difficult to tell the difference, that's all.
So poetry, which is in Oxford made An art, in London only is a trade.
In 1960, I went to St. Catherine's College, Oxford, and received the B. A. degree in Chemistry in 1964.
It was in the beginning of the month of November, 17--, when a young English gentleman, who had just left the university of Oxford, made use of the liberty afforded him, to visit some parts of the north of England; and curiosity extended his tour into the adjacent frontier of the sister country.
I am a Topshop homing pigeon! I can walk into the Oxford Circus branch and ferret out the best bits in minutes.
None but the most blindly credulous will imagine the characters and events in this story to be anything but fictitious. It is true that the ancient and noble city of Oxford is, of all the towns of England, the likeliest progenitor of unlikely events and persons. But there are limits.
You spend the first term at Oxford meeting interesting and exciting people and the rest of your time there avoiding them
While at Oxford in 1999, I met Jonathan Fortier, who is a Montreal-born Canadian. Despite the challenges of a transatlantic relationship, we remained keen on each other and eventually married in 2002.
Beauty has been stolen from the people and is being sold back to them as luxury.